Happy

by Chris Scully

  “I should go see him,” Peter said. “You don’t have to stay. I’ve got things covered now.”

  “You want me to go?”

  Peter glanced over his shoulder at Tina. “It might be easier if you did.” He gave Louie’s arm a platonic, buddy-like squeeze. “I’ll call you later.”

  White-hot anger came out of nowhere and blinded Louie. He was good enough to blow in the dark, but not to be seen with? He shook off Peter’s touch. “You know what? Don’t bother. I won’t let you treat me like your dirty little secret. What happened to not pretending, or was that all bullshit?”

  Peter’s dark eyes filled with guilt, and if Louie wasn’t mistaken, a hint of resignation. But he didn’t try to defend himself. “Lou—”

  Louie started walking backward down the hallway toward his escape. “If you want me, you can date me—out in the open, like anyone else. Otherwise, just stay the hell away.”

  TWO HOURS later, Louie sat alone with his thoughts in the dark kitchen, working his way through the last of the six-pack in the fridge. Even though the sun had yet to make an appearance, the birds had begun chirping, which meant dawn was not far off. Zelda, unable to coax him to bed, had given up and sought more comfortable quarters than the cool tile floor. But he couldn’t sleep. He was too angry. At Peter. At himself most of all.

  How had this happened again? Did he possess some sort of psychological flaw—he was only interested in men who were unavailable?

  The creak of the floorboards above his head drew his attention. Demetra’s bedroom door opened and then footsteps descended the stairs. Two sets. So mystery man was still here. He’d been in such a state when he got home he’d forgotten to check.

  He heard their whispers in the front hallway. Curiosity took hold. Just who was Demetra seeing on the side? If it weren’t for this guy he never would have seen Peter tonight. Things never would have gone as far as they had.

  Now anger simmered alongside the curiosity. Silently, Louie stole through the kitchen. He snapped on the foyer light. Like cockroaches scuttling for darkness, they jumped apart, but not before he got a good look at his sister wrapped around a gorgeous black man and his hand cupping her ass beneath the long T-shirt she wore.

  “Louie,” she shrieked, clutching a hand to her chest. “What the hell?”

  “Cheers.” He saluted them with his beer bottle and then drained it.

  They looked at each other, guilt written across both their faces. Demetra’s lover stepped forward. “Hi, I’m Andre. You must be Demetra’s brother.”

  Demetra darted in front of him and pressed her palms to his impressively wide chest. “Let me take care of this. Why don’t you go home and I’ll call you later.”

  Ha! Famous last words.

  But Demetra’s guy apparently had more balls than he did, because he stood his ground. “No. I’m not going to let you push me away again. You said I could meet your family.”

  “And you will,” she assured him. “Just not now. It’s not you I’m worried about—it’s him. Louie’s not exactly making a great impression.”

  “Hey,” Louie protested, but weakly because his bottle was empty and he wasn’t nearly drunk enough yet. He turned and headed back to the kitchen, leaving Demetra to her drama. A few minutes later, she joined him. She flipped on the overhead light, and he blinked at the brightness.

  “I wish you hadn’t seen that,” she said.

  “Me too,” Louie mumbled. “Not exactly thrilled with some guy grabbing my sister’s ass.”

  “It’s not what you think?”

  “Yeah? I’m pretty sure it’s exactly what I think.”

  Demetra’s face turned crimson. “Any more in the fridge?” she asked, gesturing to his fresh beer.

  “Nope. Last one.” Louie hesitated and then slid the bottle across the table. She looked like she could use a drink right about now. She chugged it back. “Very ladylike. I can see why Andre likes you.”

  “Shut up.” Demetra let out an equally unladylike belch. “I guess it’s time to tell Peter.”

  “Don’t bother. He already knows.”

  “What? You told him?”

  “That you’re sleeping around? You haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

  She paled. “How did you—? It’s not like that.”

  “Look, whatever screwed up, sitcom-worthy arrangement you’ve got with Peter, leave me out of it.” Louie didn’t want to talk or think about Peter.

  “He told you about that?” She seemed surprised. “It was dumb. I don’t know why we thought we could pull it off. But I guess it doesn’t matter now. I think it’s time to end it.” She flopped forward and laid her head on the table. “That’s why he’s been so anxious to talk to me, isn’t it?”

  Guilt made Louie turn away. “Why ask me?” he snapped. “I don’t know what the hell Peter wants. I don’t think Peter knows what he wants.” He couldn’t help the note of bitterness that crept into his voice at the end. Damn, he wished they had more beer.

  He got up and began searching through cupboards in the hopes of finding a forgotten bottle of something, anything, to wipe out this ache in his chest.

  Demetra fell silent, and when he looked to see why, she had her head buried in her folded arms. “I love him, Louie,” she said, sounding all teary and muffled. “I love him and I don’t know what to do.”

  His heart stopped. “Peter?”

  Her head jerked up. “No. Andre, dummy.”

  The relief left him a bit light-headed. He’d never seen Demetra like this, with her eyes pleading and voice trembling. Usually she was all drama. But this was real.

  Louie sat back down next to her. They had never truly had a close brother-sister bond, and so he felt a little awkward as he put his arm around her shoulders. “If you really love someone, Dee, you can’t pick and choose what parts of your life to share with them.”

  “I know,” she sniffled. “That’s what Andre says too.” She wiped self-consciously at her cheeks. “But… it’s not easy. I’m so afraid of what Mom and Dad will think. They won’t understand. They want me to marry a Greek boy and settle down. And I’ve tried—I’ve really tried. But that’s not what I want. I never realized how bad it must have been for you. What if they disown me?”

  “I’m the last person you should go to for advice. It’s got to be your call.”

  “Love sucks.”

  “Yeah. It does.”

  She heaved a sigh. “I’ll call Peter.”

  “You might want to wait. His dad’s in the hospital.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I was there with him earlier tonight.” He didn’t mention he’d been ordered to leave.

  Demetra’s head swung around to face him. Her eyes narrowed. She stared hard at him until Louie started to sweat. Sibling loyalty tugged at his conscience. He should tell her she wasn’t the only one hiding secrets in their relationship, but he was too damned embarrassed now.

  “No way,” she gasped suddenly. “You like him. You really like him, don’t you.”

  Louie couldn’t hide his reaction. It hurt too much. She reached over and touched his arm. Now it was her turn to comfort him. “Oh, Louie. I’m so sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as her. “I can’t be with someone who’s afraid to even be seen together.”

  Demetra’s eyes went wide again, and Louie realized what he’d just revealed. “Are you saying…? You mean you guys….”

  The heat raced up his neck. He jumped to his feet.

  “I knew it,” she cried. “All my friends kept telling me Peter was gay.”

  Shit, now the rumors would really fly. “I don’t know that he is, Dee.”

  “Hello, thirty-two and no girlfriend. And he never tried anything with me. At the very least he’s bi.”

  “He’s a coward is what he is.”

  “If you think that, you don’t know Peter at all.”

  “How can you defend him? He used y
ou.”

  “It was me, Louie. The whole thing was my idea. Peter was actually prepared to give it a shot when they set us up, but I didn’t want to because I was already sort of seeing Andre.” She slapped a hand on the tabletop. “Are you sure there’s no more beer?”

  Louie kept quiet. He stared at her in astonishment as she began to chuckle. “You think this is funny?”

  “N-no,” she gasped in between giggles. “It’s a fucking mess. But I keep picturing Mom and Dad when I tell them about Andre. And when you tell them you’re dating my ex-boyfriend.”

  “I’m not—” he began to protest, but what was the point? Demetra would think what she wanted. She always did. But when he pictured the scenario she outlined, he couldn’t help but join in. He had to laugh or else he might cry.

  Demetra wiped her eyes as the laughter dwindled. “Hey, do you want some help moving your stuff today?”

  Louie blinked. He’d completely forgotten about the new apartment and that Peter had promised to help him move in. He could do it himself—he only had one or two carloads—but he’d prefer the company. “I’d love it,” he replied.

  “In that case,” Demetra said. “I think we’d better sober up.”

  THIRTEEN

  “WHERE’S LOUIE? I thought he’d be here,” Adam said as he handed Peter the extra-large coffee.

  “It’s complicated,” he replied, not meeting his friend’s gaze as he sipped. Adam had made a special coffee run down the block, and Peter savored the results. This was way better than the hospital cafeteria brew he’d drunk earlier.

  He’d taken Ma home last night—or rather early this morning—showered, changed clothes, and been back at the hospital in time to see Pop taken into surgery. There had been no time for sleep, supposing he’d been able to. He’d barely had a second to catch his breath, let alone clear his head. Five hours later, they were still waiting for an update. Only now that the adrenaline was wearing off were things starting to sink in. He should have been helping Louie move today, but instead he was here. Alone.

  Adam and Joe had arrived not long ago, and he was grateful for the company. Louie would probably be there too, if Peter hadn’t messed things up so badly.

  Something must have shown on his face.

  “What did you do?” Joe asked from Peter’s left. “You fucked it up, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You and Louie.”

  “There is no ‘me and Louie,’” he retorted.

  “Obviously,” Joe bit out.

  Adam sat down in the chair to Peter’s right. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “About what?” he asked, deliberately obtuse. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Shouldn’t they have heard something by now? Maybe Ma had the right idea going to the hospital chapel. At least there he’d get some peace.

  “About whatever is going on with you two?” Adam continued.

  “Nope. Don’t want to talk about it. And there’s nothing going on.”

  “I told you he didn’t have the balls,” Joe said over his head to Adam.

  “I’m right here, you know,” Peter snapped. Somehow, knowing they’d talked about him made him feel worse, like a problem child whose parents had given up hope.

  “I’m pretty sure he was into you,” Adam mused. “And I know you were into him….”

  “Oh my God.” Peter covered his face with his hands. “Could we not do this now? My dad is in surgery. You guys are heartless.”

  Adam continued as if he’d never spoken. “That day we all played tennis? I haven’t seen you so… happy in years.”

  Peter jumped to his feet. “For the last time, there’s nothing—” Nothing there, he’d been about to say. But the words stuck in his throat because of course there was something there. Something life altering. Something he’d never really felt before.

  He stared at his two friends. They exchanged a concerned look.

  “Dammit,” Peter groaned and flung himself back down in the chair. “I hate it when you do that.”

  Adam squinted. “What?”

  “That mind-meld thing you guys do. The way you talk to each other without speaking.” He sounded crazy now, but fuck he was jealous. Jealous of that bond—that Adam had someone who knew him so well he didn’t even have to speak.

  “It doesn’t matter now anyway. I messed up.” To his surprise he felt tears burn the back of his eyes. The look on Louie’s face last night, when he’d told him to go home, haunted him. Louie thought he was going back to the way things were, that the other night had been a one-off, but he hadn’t meant that at all. Or had he?

  “I hate to break it to you, Petey, but we all mess up. What matters is what you do about it,” Joe said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “We only want you to be happy. I’ve watched you bury your head in the sand for ten years. Someone upstairs is trying to tell you something, dumbass. I’ll be damned if I let you ignore it again.”

  Peter snapped his head up. “What are you talking—? Oh.” Joe did remember that night in college. He looked quickly at Adam to gauge his reaction. He didn’t seem too surprised.

  “He knows,” Joe added. “We don’t have any secrets from each other.”

  Judging by Adam’s smile, he wasn’t the least bit threatened either. “Look, if it’s not Louie, that’s fine,” he said. “Just be honest with yourself about what you want. Trust me, you’ll feel better.”

  “What if I don’t know what I want?” Peter asked.

  Adam’s stare branded him a liar.

  His mother chose that moment to return to the waiting room, accompanied by Mrs. Vassiliou from down the block. Tina wasn’t exactly hostile, but she’d barely spoken since catching him in Louie’s arms last night. He’d tried to bring it up this morning in the car, but she’d only held up a hand and said, “I saw nothing. I say nothing to Demetra.” He should have told her the truth then and there, but instead he’d kept silent. Now he felt a little like he’d betrayed both Louie and Demetra.

  Time blurred. Peter tried to focus on his father’s surgery and not to think about how he’d left things with Louie, but his guilt and fear never stayed away for long. At some point he would have to make a decision—supposing there was still a decision to make. Was he ready to change his life like that?

  On one of Joe’s coffee runs, when Adam and Peter were alone in the waiting room, Peter finally broached the subject. “Can I ask you something?”

  Adam lowered the magazine he was reading. “That sounds serious. Hit me.”

  “You dated women before Joe, right? How did you know Joe was ‘the one’? That he was worth the sacrifice?”

  “Joe was always ‘the one’—I just didn’t want to see it.” Adam chuckled when Peter rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, I think I know where this is going. When it came down to it, Joe was the person I wanted to be with. All the time. Even sitting next to him, doing nothing, made me happier than I’d been with anyone else. No one ever came close.” His gaze grew serious. “I didn’t give anything up to be with him—I got more than I ever wanted. There was no sacrifice for me, Peter. I guess that’s how I finally knew.”

  Peter swallowed. When Joe returned, he accepted the coffee and sipped it silently, his mind churning. After that, he must have napped for a while because the next time he opened his eyes, Annie was there. He’d texted her this morning and asked if she could open up today.

  “Who’s minding the restaurant?” were the first words out of his mouth.

  “Fuck the restaurant, Peter,” she grunted. “The world’s not going to end because some stoner can’t get his souvlaki. Some things are more important. We are closed for a family emergency.” She gripped Peter by his shirtfront and gave him a shake. Her kohl-rimmed eyes shone. “’Cause we’re a family, dummy. Got that?”

  He nodded, more touched than he knew how to express.

  “But where’s your hunky shadow?” she asked, scanning the room.

  “Oh, for the lov
e of—”

  “Georgiou?” The scrub-clad doctor took them by surprise. They all rose in unison as if given some invisible signal. Peter’s breath caught in his chest. Ma held out her hand and he took it.

  “The operation went well,” the surgeon told them. “He’s in Recovery now. They’ll be taking him to the ICU shortly, and then you’ll be able to see him.”

  Ma gave a little cry and sagged back against him. Peter exhaled.

  “We ended up having to bypass three arteries. They were almost completely blocked.”

  “So this wasn’t something that could have been prevented, then?” Peter asked, needing to know none of this was his fault. He felt someone’s hand rub his back.

  “With proper diet and exercise, possibly. But I don’t think Mr. Georgiou was sticking to his doctor’s advice. Am I right? Frankly I’m surprised he wasn’t in here a lot sooner. He had to have been having troubles for some time.

  “There were no complications with the surgery, but at his age it could be a slow recovery,” the doctor continued. “He’ll be here at least a week. And in the future he’ll need to take things a little more seriously.”

  “What is he saying?” Tina demanded in Greek. She unleashed a barrage of questions.

  “He’s saying Pop needs to take better care of himself,” Peter translated.

  “Where he is?” she asked the doctor in halting English.

  “You can see him for a few minutes, but family only. He won’t be up for any visits until tomorrow. He’s on a breathing tube right now.”

  When a nurse offered to take them to the recovery area, Tina immediately followed, but Peter hung back, needing a minute to himself. Everything felt so unreal, the sounds suddenly too loud, the lights too bright. He blinked, and then it slid back to normal.

  He glanced over his shoulder, back toward the waiting room where his friends were gathered to support him, but the one person he wanted to see most right now wasn’t there.

  And he had only himself to blame.

  WORD OF his pop’s heart attack spread quickly. His mother’s friends from church banded together, offering drives to and from the hospital, bringing food to the house. It was a relief to let other people take over for a while. He reopened the restaurant because he knew that’s what Pop would want, and it kept him occupied. Demetra texted him to see how he was doing and to tell him they needed to talk. He made some vague excuse about being too busy, promising to call her as soon as things got back to normal. In reality he was afraid to talk to her, not because he figured she was about to end it—that was well and truly over—but because he wasn’t ready to deal with the subject of Louie yet.